


What He Wanted

by baranduin



Category: Lord of the Rings RPF
Genre: Angst, First Time, First Time Bottoming, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-01-13
Updated: 2010-01-13
Packaged: 2017-10-06 06:16:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,831
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/50587
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/baranduin/pseuds/baranduin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Elijah knows what he wants. David knows what he wants.</p>
            </blockquote>





	What He Wanted

The bite of prawn melts in David's mouth—brine and sweetness and bright lemon all dissolving against his tongue.

"Good?"

It takes a minute for Elijah's question to register, but when it does, David turns his attention to the eager boy and smiles. "Yeah. Real good." And the jolt of blue hits him, slams hard into the pit of his belly and knocks the breath out of him.

Happens every time.

But that's all that will happen.

David swears this to himself as he spears another tender young prawn.

* * *

It figures.

The young pup has the nicest room in the hotel. _His_ room doesn't have that deep roomy whirlpool tub. David taps his penis with a practiced flick, flushes and zips up his jeans. Ah, he could make good use of the spa tub tonight after a long day of catching Frodo as the hobbit fainted dead away in the cave of Henneth Annun.

Hm. David stretches his tired shoulders, flexing hard before washing his hands. Elijah is small but not exactly light. And especially not light considering how enthusiastically he had thrown himself into the "fainting hobbit" scene.

_"Eh. Bet they cut it in the end,"_ David thinks as he starts to go back into the bedroom. Somehow he'd let Elijah talk him into running their lines tonight for tomorrow.

And that's all that will happen. These are some of the things that will _not_ happen:

There will be no sitting close to Elijah, that is, not close enough to give him the opportunity to rub his foot against David's leg or accidentally on purpose put his hand on David's knee. Like he did at Logan Brown the night the prawns melted in David's mouth.

_Elijah would melt that way, wouldn't he?_

There will definitely be no sitting on the bed with him. Right. He'll make a beeline for that straight-backed chair when he goes back inside the bedroom.

No practicing the fainting scene. Not even if Elijah asks. Anyway, weren't they done with that one?

There will be no looking directly into Elijah's eyes for more than a second or two. No, strike that. No looking directly into Elijah's eyes at all. Only oblique glances.

No touching, not even if they do practice the fainting scene some more. (There could be reshoots, best to be prepared.)

"I am a man who is happily committed to the woman I love. And have been for years. Don't want him anyway." David mutters these words under his breath. It's true, too. All of it. Even the last bit.

_Sure it is. _

David opens the door and walks out of the bathroom into the dimly lit bedroom. The walls are paneled in wood stained a warm amber that darkens into black shadows in the far corners of the room. One rounded bedside lamp casts a honeyed yellow glow against the bed. Elijah is lying naked on it, the covers pulled down only on his side, his skin pale and luminous against the sheets. One hand is curled beneath the covers, and his hips are canted to one side. Sort of like Donatello's David, the here and now David thinks. Though without the hat, and Elijah's hair is short and spiky against the pillow rather than flowing in perfect Florentine Renaissance curls. And of course Elijah is lying down, oh is he ever lying down, not standing as Donatello's elegant young shepherd does in perpetuity.

Elijah's more beautiful. The Donatello boy is much more beautiful in his living flesh than any statue, be it cast in bronze or carved from marble and polished to a high gleam.

And David's tired of being teased. Not to mention out of patience.

Right. Elijah wants. Elijah will get. And they'll go on their merry way.

Now that his resistance is gone, David's voice is raspy when he speaks, as rough as his stubbled chin will be against Elijah's smooth throat. "Persistent thing."

When Elijah just smiles at him, lazily turning up the corners of his mouth, running one hand up and down his hard cock, David groans. "A quick one, then?" he says. Oh, yes, quick, so quick that it will almost be like it never happened. And Elijah is young, so young, he'll come off right away. Probably sooner than that.

Elijah's eyes widen and he nods.

David undresses quickly, stripping off his shirt and jeans, leaving them crumpled on the floor. As he gets on the bed, Elijah pulls back the sheets—lube and condom lie at the ready.

"Sure of yourself, aren't you?" David kneels next to Elijah and strokes his body with a rough, practiced hand—from sharp collarbone in a quick slide to where hip bone meets the tender flesh of thigh. It surprises David when his voice comes out so ragged and harsh, almost as if he were angry. "Turn over." Fast. He'd said fast, and Elijah had agreed.

Elijah blinks at him, startled—_ah, not quite so sure of yourself_—but turns over obediently onto his belly. David gives himself no time for thought as he squeezes Elijah's bottom with both hands, hard. Elijah hisses.

"Raise up." By now David's voice is just a whisper, but loud enough for Elijah to hear and understand.

David sinks back on his haunches between Elijah's open legs, one hand loose around his own stiff cock, round head fully exposed and slick. It hurts. He needs to come. Needs to sink deep and hard and fast inside Elijah's appled ass after first riding the narrow line of peach fuzz that bisects ... Needs it now. Fast.

Like they'd agreed.

Elijah is breathing hard now, his face pressed against his pillow, his shoulder blades sharp and pointed. David takes a good long look at him and feels a little pang of regret that he won't be able to take his time with this young, eager boy. Is this right?

Hollywood star for so many years, almost all his life—he's seen way more than you have, David reminds himself with a snap as he rolls the condom onto his more than ready cock, pulling on the tip since he knows he's going to shoot and shoot and shoot as if he's never come before.

_You never have. Not with him. And you won't again._

A quick corkscrew twist of fingers slick with lube—David groans at the sudden grip—and he's pushing the blunt tip of his cock against Elijah's small, pink opening. Pushing, twisting, sideways now, and he's in with surprising ease.

A high-pitched moan ...

_(...it was a scream...)_

...and David stops. Just. He leans over Elijah's sweat-slicked back and says, "All right?"

"Yeah ... 'course."

So David starts again. With each stroke, something sings inside his mind at the sight of Elijah spread beneath him, still, so still and pliant and quiet beneath him. In counterpoint to this strange tune, he whispers a silent litany to himself with each push of cock and pull of penetrated flesh—"just a fuck, just a fuck, just a fuck..." But it's all drowned out by the roaring that begins to build in his ears—a sound and vibration that thrums hot in his balls and pulses out through shaft and nerve and blood and bone and sweat and semen and want want want.

* * *

Elijah sits alone in his huge bathtub, hugging his knees tight to his chest. The shower rains down on his head and across his upturned face. It is only shower water streaming from his eyes for his sobs are dry.

He looks down and stares at the pink-tinged water draining away beneath him. He shivers though the water is hot.

_I didn't realize ..._

This is a good hotel so the water continues to run hot and fine for the many minutes Elijah needs to regain a little of his equilibrium.

_Thought it would be different ..._

When he shifts, the burning reaches with hot fingers deep inside him.

_He didn't kiss me once._

Elijah laughs at that. He's not so far gone that he doesn't still have a little sense of proportion. After all, it wasn't that kind of, well, whatever it had been. A quick fuck, as David had said. He'd gotten what he'd asked for—short, sharp and hard. Ah. Short was not quite the right word, he thought with a grimace.

Elijah doesn't understand why he wants to do it again.

* * *

David sits up in bed, his elbows pressing into the mattress, and swears.

They come back to him now, the little things that niggled at him at the time but now add up to a conclusion that makes him ashamed at how rough and perfunctory he'd been. The stillness of Elijah's body as he entered him, that quick blink of surprise, the way Elijah had turned over fast when it was over, the tinge of red when he cleaned up. Too rough, especially for someone's first time. David realizes now that the bravado is just that—all pretense and bravado. The mark of a good actor.

"Damn."

He'll make it up to Elijah tomorrow. He hopes.

* * *

The next day David pulls Elijah aside during a break. When Elijah doesn't meet his eyes, David takes a deep breath and asks, "You all right?"

A quick flash of irritated blue. "Yeah ... why wouldn't I be?"

David looks around, can't help doing that before stroking Elijah's arm, the brown velvet of the Frodo jacket soft beneath his fingers. Elijah doesn't pull away, but his face gives away nothing and for a moment David doubts his guess from last night. After all, it had been late, never a good time for rational thought. But his doubt lasts only for as long as a quick intake of breath. The blink of an eye.

"Why wouldn't you be all right?" David finally says. "Simple. Because you never did that before. You should have told me."

Now Elijah does pull away. He spins out of David's reach and looks down at the ground as though he is analyzing the network of cables crisscrossing the forest floor. When he speaks, David has to lean forward to hear his words. "I got what I wanted."

"Did you?"

"Yeah."

David sighs before slipping up behind Elijah and cupping his shoulders in the palms of his hands, not carrying who sees them for this second or two. "Then you're the only guy I've ever met who wanted a bleeding arse as a souvenir of his first time."

Elijah shrugs. "It doesn't matter. I wanted it and you obliged. It's no big deal."

"It is to me," David says. "It doesn't have to be like that." David swallows hard. "I'm sorry if I hurt you ... it didn't have to hurt so much."

Now Elijah turns around and faces David. He smiles sweetly and the roaring in David's ears rises again. Elijah says, "So you'll just have to make it up to me tonight. Right?"

All the tension in David's neck and shoulders—how long had he been clenching his muscles?—dissolves at Elijah's words and the warmth in his eyes.

When David can't find his voice at first, the smile on Elijah's mouth droops, and David blasts himself again before finally managing to blurt, "Right. Tonight. Second take?"

The crew is calling to them now, but Elijah manages to part with another grin before settling his face into the pinched look Frodo wears in Ithilien as once again the halfling becomes Faramir's prisoner.

* * *

Elijah and David lie naked on Elijah's bed. The condoms and lube rest on the nightstand within easy reach, but David has no intention of reaching for them too soon tonight. This time he'll make it good for Elijah. He props himself up on one elbow and leans over his Donatello boy, pressing a lean thigh between Elijah's knees, opening them. Elijah licks his lips and whispers, "What do we do now?"

David leans down and does what he hadn't done the night before, does what he's been thinking of doing ever since he laid eyes on that tender mouth. Elijah draws back from the soft kiss. "Didn't know this was part of the deal."

"It is tonight." This time, David doesn't content himself with just the briefest taste of Elijah's mouth. This time David takes Elijah's mouth completely, fully. No, he doesn't take it; that's not the way of it. Elijah is generous and offers it, and David willingly receives soft lips opening beneath his.

* * *

Elijah smiles in the dark, rubbing his cheek sleepily against David's arm. Lying spooned together like this, well, it's nice. He likes David's arm tucked around his waist. He has never felt that before. And he likes it. He also likes the soft jumble of David's balls and cock pressed against his ass. When he pushes back _just so_ to pull the soft, pliant shaft between his thighs, his own cock twitches in remembrance. David's breathing is steady and even against the top of his head. He likes that too and concentrates happily on matching his own breathing with David's.

Elijah is glad of the night's activities though he suspects he might not walk straight for a week. And that makes him smile again. He wonders if David will want to do it in the morning. He hopes so. When he wonders who will be his next partner and the prospect makes him laugh softly, David shifts in his sleep and tightens his arm around Elijah.

* * *

David scowls at the importunate outthrust hand, at the hard little demanding eyes. Another series of flashes go off and, not for the first time that evening, he wishes he were home again. Wishes he hadn't come to the premiere. The hand pushing the sheaf of pictures toward him does not go away at his scowl. Grabbing the pen held out and the pictures—gah, he looks like a twat in that wig and silly white tree on his chest—he signs his name quickly, economically even. D—d W——m.

He turns away from the gaggle of Ebay carrion and pulls his jacket collar up and toward his face. Not that it shields him from the biting, searching fingers of cold. As he begins to make his way toward the entrance of the theater—surely he's satisfied them with enough scrawled signatures and grudging smiles—he takes a deep breath as he prepares to run the gauntlet of television reporters out to cover the big event. His lips turn up slightly at the cameras pointed his way. _"That won't take but a minute,"_ he thinks, for he knows who they're really interested in and it's not him. Not like at home. And he can predict the question that will be parceled out to him, read by rote from some bent 3"x5" card or whispered into the headset of some empty-eyed reporter who will most likely pronounce "Faramir" as "Farmer." Oh, yes, they'll have their one question.

_"So tell us how you feel about the alterations to your character. Do you agree with the changes?"_

David takes another deep breath before allowing himself to be captured by the first sharp-beaked media vulture. Yes, time to go on autopilot for a minute while he recites his rote answer to the rote question. _"Yes, necessary changes. You see, the dramatic tension ..."_

But David receives a reprieve from an unexpected quarter. A hand tugs at his sleeve and he turns around to see Elijah smiling up at him with that wide grin that speaks of nothing but delight.

"Hey, man ... fantastic to see you!"

* * *

The reporters have asked all their questions and have left David to his own devices. Left him now that the hobbits have arrived. It's time to make his way into the theater.

He knew Elijah would be here, had even worried away at it the past few sleepless nights. Had chewed on it even as his desire and anticipation had risen from the vault into which he had locked them once filming had been completed and they had gone their separate ways.

David is alone in New York.

It would just be one night.

Perhaps he might find a minute to whisper something into Elijah's ear before the movie starts. Just, you know, to firm things up.

David turns and walks down the red carpet. A trio of security guards ahead of him separates, and he sees a tableau vivant laid out before him. There are the reporters, and oh, it seems like there are hundreds of them, their long-handled fuzzy-headed microphones bobbing and weaving in midair like some strange form of insect life. The hobbits are in a tight bunch together, their backs to David.

The smile on David's face freezes when Elijah reaches an arm behind his back. His hand searches for a minute until it makes contact with another seeking hand, and they clasp, hard, for a moment. Even as they withdraw, their fingers entwine, clearly unwilling to let go.

And then it's over.


End file.
